


Death isn't Always Complicated

by CelestialRay



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Attempted Suicide, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Shiro, DIAC, Death, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Keith is dying, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance is Death, M/M, Suicide, Trigger Warnings, Voltron au, blood warning, klance, major character deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-12 10:45:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15993578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialRay/pseuds/CelestialRay
Summary: In which the heart of Death is captivated by a troubled boy stuck in a self-induced coma while Keith had no idea that death himself would be so full of life, or that he goes by the name of ‘Lance McClain.”In this story, Lance is Death and Keith is Dying.





	1. Double Chocolate Green Tea Frappuccino To Go

**Author's Note:**

> This story will contain trigger warnings at the start of each chapter, I ask that you read this story with caution. It's not meant to be a super angsty story but the characters do go through some serious stuff. Please be careful. Much love dear readers.

 

(Trigger Warnings: Car Crash, Death, Blood, Gore)

 

No one had ever asked Deaths name, not in the century he’d been doing the job had someone ever asked what his name was. They didn’t care. Their first response was usually to scream. Then beg. Then get angry. Usually, he’d introduce himself when they’d calmed down but they never seemed to care. However, she didn’t scream, she didn’t cry or beg, she didn’t get angry when he told her she’d died. Instead, she just looked up at him with those bright chocolate brown eyes and a gorgeous smile with her two front teeth missing and asked for his name.

 

“The names Death.” He said with a smirk as he knelt down to her eye level, watching her through his own cold blue’s with interest as she laughed at him.

 

_Laughed at him!_ This girl must have nerves of steel to laugh in the face of death.. literally.  

“No silly! Your real name, not your made-up name, you don’t even look like a superhero,” She giggled.

 

“My real name is Lance, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. It’s a big secret.” He smiled softly at her for a moment before continuing, “What’s your name?”

“My name is Eleanora, but you can call me Leigh!! I think it sounds cooler like that. Mum says it’s a boys name but my dad said that it’s okay.” She spoke proudly, sticking her hands on her sides and smiling as she pulled a pose.

 

“Leigh Church, also known as Captain Star, defender of planet earth with the power of supernovas!” Her voice echoed around Lance triumphantly before she giggled again. This time she turned away from him and looked around.

“Have you seen my parents? We’re going to see my Granny and Grampy for My birthday, I’m turning 8.” Lance sighed as she spoke, finally getting a good look at their location. They were on the side of a mountain covered in a blanket of heavy snow that hid the deep green of the forest from sight. It would have been a gorgeous view in the night sky with the moonlight shining brightly had it not been for the demolished car that rested partway down the mountain. It appeared to have swerved on the ice before losing traction and veering off the side of the mountain before hitting a stronger tree and stopping. Parts of the exterior lay broken on the ground and mixed in the with the now destroyed fauna.

 

Leigh had died on impact; meaning she never went unconscious and was awake the second she appeared. According to his watch, Lance could tell that the father had also died on impact but had been knocked out first.

 

Mum, however still had seven minutes left.

 

“What happened?” Leigh asked looking back to Lance with a frown, having finally noticed the car.

 

“Your dad hit a patch of ice, the car lost control and you crashed. You’re dead, Leigh.” Lance explained softly, standing up to walk closer. He always hated looking at the bodies, but it was better if he closed their eyes. It made it easier for them to come to terms with what happened when they’re not staring at their own pupils. He left Leigh on the side of the road, not wanting her to witness anything more than she had to. A silhouette of her father was slowly forming at the side of the road, meaning he was waking up. Lance didn’t have much time to help the mum before everything became significantly harder.

 

He reached into the car and closed Leigh’s eyes first, a small trail of blood pooling from her mouth down her chin. Lance wiped it away carefully before tucking a toy rabbit into her arms. She looked like she was sleeping now.

 

“Mike... Mike wake up..” The women in the passenger seat stuttered and coughed. Lance turned to look at her, only to wince at the sight, his own breath catching in his throat. According to his records, her name was Sarah.

 

She had a tree branch sticking into her stomach through the front window. Her eyelids were heavy and she was covered in blood; thick dark blood that would have caused Lance to throw up if he could be bothered actually eating anything. She looked like she was in immense pain and the poor boy wanted nothing more than to help her, to take away the feeling of life slipping from her as she struggled ironically against the seatbelt to look at her husband.

 

“Mike- we have to… Eleanora.” She whimpered out again between pained breathes as Lance looked at his watch; it had dropped to two minutes. It wasn’t long now. She continued to blink, trying to fight the tiredness that was washing over her, he remembered the feeling every moment of his Death. It’s like lance was stuck in that constant state between asleep and awake. He knew she was trying so hard to stay alive but her clock was ticking and there was nothing that would change that. He held no emotion for the women as she died slowly in front of him.

 

“Are they in pain?” A voice mumbled from next to Lance, he could hear the quiver in her tone as she sniffled. He hadn’t even realised Leigh walked over to him, the dead don’t make noise when they walk. He missed the crunch of snow beneath his feet. Sighing softly, he turned around to look at her, moving to rest his knees on what should feel like cold snow. He wished he could remember the chill that came with the cold, to remember the feeling of remorse in this situation. Yet he was only numb as he stared at the little girl. She looked so much older than she actually was. She deserved better than this.

 

“Your mum is, but she’ll be okay. Your dad is going to be here soon too.” He tried to smile at her, he really did. No one likes knowing that someone they love is in pain but there was no point lying to her. She was smarter than she looked. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she nodded, grabbing Lance’s hand so they could stand silently and watch as her mum took her final breath.

 

“Let's go get them,” Lance said softly to Leigh after he closed the woman’s eyes. The blood dripped from his hands leaving no trace behind as they walked. It was almost poetic in a twisted way.

 

When they got back to the road, Lance could hear the parents fighting, Sarah’s shrill voice echoed out in the winter night while the father tried his hardest to calm her down. Lance coughed and they both turned to look at him with shocked gasps.

 

“Who are you?” Mike asked almost instantly noticing his daughter clinging to the boy. Unfortunately, Leigh replied before he could get the chance.

 

“This is my friend, Lance,” Her voice was soft and sweet as she let go of his hand. Lance waved awkwardly to her parents as if he had a reason to. It wasn’t uncommon for people to yell at him, so if he could make himself out to be as friendly as possible he could avoid shifting.

 

He hated shifting, it always left him feeling drained. It took a large amount of concentration to focus on something a person finds terrifying, but three at one time, well he wasn’t willing to find out the result. Lance had a problem, he’d been Death for over a century now with no qualms, however, he was growing apathetic, tired, and honestly, just plain bored. Yet, this had to be better than whatever was behind the door.

 

“I don’t really go by that name anymore,” He explained as he sighed deeply, his cold blue eyes staring into Mike’s soul. “You probably know me as Death. God, I hate saying it like that but unfortunately it's true. The crash killed you.”

 

Mike and Sarah watched the young boy for a moment, both with blank expressions before Sarah finally spoke up, “But you’re a child?”

 

“I’m 118, thanks,” Lance replied, clearly unimpressed with the statement.

 

“But, you look barely 16.” Mike continued on looking just as puzzled as his wife.

 

“I died when I was 18 if that makes you feel any better.” Lance knew he shouldn’t be too nasty as they had just _died_ like not even five minutes ago and he’d had over 100 years to get used to the idea, but was just so sick of answering that statement.

 

Leigh clung to her mother as Sarah frowned deeply, her age showing in the wrinkles that covered her face. She would have been beautiful when she was younger, but now she just looked as tired as Lance felt.

 

“You really don’t look like death, what about the black cloak and scythe?” Mike asked trying to change the subject, to this Lance groaned loudly and turned around in a circle. When he was facing them again his green bomber jacket and jeans had been replaced with a fog like cloak, a pointed hood casting shadows over his pitch black eyes. His normal caramel skin held a pale blue tinge to it, and he never understood the wildly oversized, and - to his knowledge - completely useless scythe that accompanied his shift. He spun it in his hands before stabbing it dramatically into the ground, still unable to find a use for it other than chopping large vegetables.

 

“Better?” He asked, his voice was cold and emotionless as it echoed around the surrounding area. Leigh cried out and hid behind Sarah, who covered her eyes.

 

Milk visibly paled and shook his head.

 

“It- It was okay before. Th-thanks.” He stuttered out as his hands shook, unable to look away from Lance’s eyes.

 

Death’s eyes held your entire life in them, and when you stared into them it felt as if you were reliving every moment at once. He supposed that’s where the statement of your life flashing before your eyes came from. The boy simply shrugged at the man and turned around again, letting his appearance drop back to his normal, less menacing jacket and jeans.

 

“I have so many questions,” Mike muttered again before looking to his wife who simply nodded.

 

Lance inwardly groaned but agreed nevertheless.

 

“How can you be in so many places at once?”  
“How did you become death?”

“Does God really exist?”

“What did we do to deserve to die?”  


“Woah Woah Woah, calm down. You’re stressing me out,” He said quickly holding his hands up before crossing them across his chest, “I have fragmented copies around the world of myself, however, you’re blessed with the physical me today. It’s way too complicated to explain, you’re just going to have to accept the fact that I am me. And I don’t even know the answer to that question. I’ve never been through the door, I don’t know what's on the other side.” Lance froze at the last question, however, his voice getting stuck in his throat as he looked to Leigh.

 

No one deserved to die, he just wished people understood that it wasn’t his fault.

 

“I don't kill people.” His voice was completely serious as he watched them, the whites of his eyes swirling with black as he continued, “Now if you’re done with the questions, can we get this on with? You’re not the only people to die today.” With a click of his fingers, a door appeared next to him. In one swift but effortless movement, Lance was lazily leaning against the wooden frame, His eyes watching the family and waiting for the questions they would undoubtedly bombard him with.

 

“Where does the door go?” Leigh asked loudly as she walked up and placed her hand on the wood. Lance could see the pattern now, it was a sunset and a family having a picnic. What a sweet memory to stay in forever.

 

“Behind this door is your most treasured memory, It’s where your soul goes to rest.” He explained before looking at her parents to make sure they understood too. It wasn’t complicated but most people liked to make it difficult. Yet, the adults approached the door without too much hesitation and looked to Lance with a fraction of a smile between the two of them.

 

“Will we all go to the same place?” Mike asked as he grabbed Leigh’s hand and Sarah grabbed the other. Lance frowned, he never knew the answer to this question but for their sake, he hoped so. So he nodded and smiled, before opening the door and whispering a simple good luck to their fading figures. When the door shut, Lance snapped his fingers again before walking off with his hands in his pockets. It was time for a strong coffee and a doughnut.

 

\-----

 

Balmerian Bakehouse was on the corner of Garrison Street and Oriande Road, it wasn’t very large but the smell that surrounded the shop always made Lance’s mouth water. Even though he didn’t necessarily _need_ to eat, the Bakehouse had him wanting to. He also wasn’t meant to materialise around the same people multiple times, but when did death ever play by the rules?

“Lance!” Shay’s sweet voice reached him before the sight of her flour powdered face, always cheerful. He couldn’t help the infectious smile she was always able to pull out of him, no matter how traumatizing a job he’d just finished. “What can I get you today?”

“Uuh,” Lance squinted at the menu above her, the sudden pressure weighing on him until he defaulted to his usual “Double Chocolate Green Tea Frappuccino...please. Oh and one of Hunk’s amazing Nutella Donut cones.”

“Comin’ right up.”

 

Lance’s usually cold body warmed at the fragrance steaming up from his drink.

“Come to papa,” he mumbled under his breath before taking a sip. Shay’s fraps never failed to lift his spirits...but even her specialty double chocolate couldn’t take Leigh and her family off his mind this time. It had been a while since he’d departed a little kid in person - he always tried to leave them to one of his fragments to avoid the guilt he can’t help feeling despite the fact that he holds no responsibility for their deaths.

 

Suddenly his frappuccino tastes less than comforting. He guesses this one is to go.

 

Lance sighed to himself, lingering at the counter for a moment longer before waving a short goodbye to Hunk and Shay and making his way out the door. It happened in a matter of seconds, though he wasn’t really sure how the accident transpired. In an instant, his drink was covering the front of his shirt and face, the sickly sweet chocolate sticking uncomfortably as it dripped down and landed on the floor. The entire cafe was frozen in shock while the boy in front of him took a surprised step back.

 

He looked nervous, his earphones having fallen from his ears in the collision, which meant Lance could hear the loud music he’d been listening to. The boy stuttered over his words for a moment, his cheeks bright red and his ears even more so. Shay was already running over to the two of them with a wet cloth in hand, stifling her laughter. An inexplicable sense of familiarity had Lance staring. Something about the way this kid hid behind his dark hair like he was trying not to be seen was endearingly nostalgic.

 

“I’m sorry.” The boy said quickly, finally able to snap out of whatever trance he had been in. He only just seemed to notice what had happened, staring at the spilled drink in confusion. Lance just shrugged casually, not particularly upset by the accident. He hadn’t been enjoying the drink anyways, probably would have ended up throwing it out before returning to his daily habits of departing the recently deceased to their eternity in the afterlife.

 

“I’ll buy you another one,” He offered, tone sharp and insistent, causing Lance to quirk an eyebrow at him. It had been an accident, but Lance still had his doughnut, he wasn’t too fussed.

“It’s okay, don’t stress. Wasn’t in the mood for it today.” He said nonchalantly, flashing him a gentle half-smile.

“No, it was my fault.” The boy persisted, a sense of urgency in his tone as he spoke like he was making up excuses not to be somewhere, or maybe he was trying to rush the situation so he could leave. That seemed like the more logical explanation. Lance nodded and turned back around to the menu, wondering if he could find something else to drink this time.

 

“What do you want? I have no idea what that drink was.” The boy gestured vaguely back to the now cleaned floor where the puddle of green slush had been less than a minute ago. Lance sighed dramatically as he studied the menu before looking to Hunk who was now behind the counter. Lance had a soft spot for Hunk, he was walking sunshine and his baking skills were otherworldly. He was sure they’d be the greatest of friends if Lance wasn’t literal Death.

 

“Iced Skinny Hazelnut Macchiato with Sugar-free syrup, an extra shot of coffee, light ice, _no whip_ , heavy cinnamon and chocolate flakes,” Lance stated with a smug tone before turning to the boy, who looked a mixture of terrified and pissed off. Before he could say anything Lance laughed and shook his head.

“Relax Mullet. I’m kidding, Just a fresh orange juice, thanks Hunk.” He flashed his friend a smile. Hunk just chuckled and looked to his companion as lance mulled over the menu again.

“Yeah yeah, Lance.” Hunk laughed before continuing, “What about you Keith? The regular?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, thanks Hunk.” Keith’s head snapped to the counter as he spoke, the red blush that had faded now returning to his ears.

“What’s your regular?” Lance asked, partly out of curiosity, partly as an excuse to talk to Keith.

“Oh, just a double long black with a shot of hazelnut.” He stated with a sigh, body relaxing for a second before he continued, “I miss real milk, soy milk is disgusting.” Lance hummed in agreement, his arms crossing over his chest.  

“Tell me about it, sometimes you just have to suffer the consequences. Especially when you come to a place like this.”

 

While they talked, the two boys walked over to a table as a crowd of people started entering the shop. The lunch rush. Keith played with his earphones and Lance tore up pieces of the napkin on the table. When Shay brought their drinks over, Lance stood up with a smile.

“Thanks again for the drink.” He said quickly as he tucked in his chair. Keith looked almost disappointed, his body going tense again.

“No problem, sorry for spilling your first one.”

“It gave me an excuse to talk to you, I’m not complaining. However, I do need to change before I go back to work, so if you’ll excuse me, I gotta run.” Keith nodded and stood up, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck while Lance nodded to him once more before heading to the door.

 

Lance couldn’t help but think of Keith as he walked down the street, his body slowly fading until he was once again on the astral plane. He still had his drink with him, walking around aimlessly and mulling over the nostalgia he couldn’t manage to pinpoint. Why was Keith so familiar? It didn’t matter really, he just hoped never to run into him again. Not for a very long time, at least

 

 


	2. Antidepressants to Keep the Doctors Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith makes a final decision while Lance breaks the rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains triggering content and I want you all to read this with extreme caution. It depicts drug use, suicide, and depression. PLEASE Be safe while reading this chapter. For those who'd still like to know what happened, there will be a short chapter summary at the end of the chapter in the end notes. Please be safe guys, we love you!  
> I'd also like to thank @Pretzellus who wrote Keith's part of the chapter.   
> And @ImmortalError for being a great support while working on this chapter, couldn't have done it without either of these two.

Keith knew he was staring when Lance walked out of the cafe, he couldn’t help it. There was a certain glow that hung around the boy as if he was a figment of Keith’s imagination or a lens flare in a picture. He was there one moment and gone the next. Cleary there was more to Lance than Keith could even possibly imagine. 

 

“He’s attractive isn’t he?” Shay hummed happily from next to Keith, leaning her chin on the mop. Keith looked up at her with a subconsciously quirked eyebrow. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Hunk agrees with me.”

 

“I sure do. He’s like a Cuban God.” Hunk called from the cash register and winked to Keith who just shook his head and gave a small laugh. He loved how open Shay and Hunk were with their relationship, they had been dating since senior year of high school, and yet they acted as if they’d been married fifty years.

However, despite how happy he was for his friends, he couldn’t help the jealousy that rose up in his throat everytime they were around. It made him feel sick, like if he opened his mouth all the buildup of anger and loneliness would pour out in a continuous stream of words he’d regret. 

Keith swallowed down such words, smiled to Shay, threw his barely touched coffee in the garbage, and left. It was more instinct than a decision at this point to return his headphones to his ears. Music used to enhance his world. It was like living his life to a personal soundtrack, and when he walked to his theme song, he was invincible - or, used to be. Now all music did for his world was drown it out. 

Something like relief flooded him while he made his way home. He had nowhere to go anymore. He’d been to the library to return every book he’d borrowed and forgotten to return. He’d visited his father’s grave. His Mother’s grave. He’d even seen Hunk and Pidge. There was nowhere left to go except home.

And so, he made his way; jaywalking busy streets, nodding disinterestedly at the cars honking and people shouting because “ _ are you stupid?! I could’ve hit you! Watch where you’re going!”  _ and all that. But it’s soon forgotten, as he proceeds to take the darkest alleys he could think of, handing money to as many afternoon-drunk panhandlers as he could find until his wallet was empty. What a good Samaritan he was being today. What an appropriate day to be a good Samaritan. 

 

When Keith gets home he’s instantly met with overcompensated affection. Lois is sweet and all, but she’s not his mother, never will be. 

“Keith!” she exclaims with a disgustingly forced smile. “Welcome home, sweetie,” Keith swears to  _ God _ he can feel his eyes rolling even without his permission. 

“Lois.” 

“What do you think you’ll want for dinner tonight? I’ve got soup, chicken-”

“Nothing.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Keith can see the plastered smile falter on her pretty, dolled up face. It’s unbearably awkward. Even more so when she forces out a confused laugh. “Alright then, I’ll just let you take care of yourself for dinner - but we’ll save extra in case you change your-” 

“I’m going to my room.”

 

Keith knows he shouldn’t be such a dick. Shiro reminds him of it every day, because “Mum’s only trying to help, Keith.” 

And then Keith will say something rude back like, “you mean  _ your _ mum.”

And eventually, Shiro will pull the “are you still taking your meds?” Which does nothing but  _ infuriate _ Keith - angers him to his  _ core _ because he’s _ more than his meds, for fuck’s sake _ . So he grits his teeth and lies and says “Yeah,” and that’s that.

And he knows he shouldn’t be such a dick. Not to Lois. Especially not to Shiro - but he can’t help it and that only hurts him more. He doesn’t act like this on purpose. He used to be a nice person, but nowadays he can’t spit out two words without hearing the venom in his own voice. He hates it. Hates who he is to the world. 

 

Keith spends the evening in his room. Listens to the muffled, mundane conversation happening between Lois and Shiro over dinner and feels left out even though he’d turned down the offer in the first place. They’re getting along fine without him, anyway.

Everyone is. 

Hunk and Shay, Pidge and her family - he hasn’t heard from them in weeks. Keith supposes it’s probably his fault. He’s the one who got moody and uncaring, who rejected all their invitations to hang out until they stopped bothering to ask. 

Fuck, why can’t he just move on? Shiro did it! Even Lois did it, so why is he still this affected almost a year after his father’s death?

Is it too much to ask to function without being constantly medicated? Is he a bad person for wanting to feel something other than despair, anger, or the null, empty state of dissociated numbness that his pills put him in? He doesn’t even cry anymore, he’s far past tears. He just feels...dead. 

Keith has thought about death. Does think about it - is thinking about it right now, while he sits on the edge of his bed and stares at the floor because there’s nothing else for him to do. This is probably the most he’s ever thought about something in his life because once the thought entered his head it stuck and grew and manifested into something ugly and consuming and now it’s all he is. He used to consider himself an impulsive person, but he’s never been so horribly indecisive and at the same time, disturbingly sure of something before. 

So tonight’s the night. 

Nothing happened. There was no inciting incident or particularly bad day that brought Keith to such a decision. He just woke up this morning and knew with unwavering certainty, tonight’s the night. 

 

Lois doesn’t say goodnight. As sweet a facade as she puts on, Keith knows she won’t interact with him unless she has to. Doesn’t really blame her. Shiro knocks on his door. Doesn’t come in, but knocks and shouts a quick “night, Keith,” like nothing out of the ordinary is going on. Like Keith isn’t currently sitting on the bathroom floor in nothing but his dad’s jacket and a pair of sweatpants, listening to his favourite song on repeat hoping that it might persuade him to change his mind. He sits with his bedroom door unlocked and the bathroom door wide open, not really hoping, but silently praying for Shiro to walk in and see the empty bottle of antidepressants on the floor in front of him, while its contents wait nearly spilling out of his hand. 

Come on, he thinks. 

Come and stop me.

What Keith’s most afraid of, though, is the possibility of Shiro not stopping him. And that’s why he replies with a choked out but mundane sounding “night.” Because what if Shiro didn’t stop him? 

What if he walked right in? Saw everything? What if he didn’t even care because Keith’s been such a fucking dick for the better part of a year and he knows everything would be better without him? 

The pills in Keith’s hand are heavy. Not really. But they feel like it. His song ends, so he pulls out his earbuds before another one can start. Now it’s silent. Now he can hear himself breathing. Now his chest is heaving and his lungs feel tight. 

They’re better off without you, he thinks to himself. Better off without you, better off without you, better off without you…

Repeats the phrase like a mantra until it doesn’t mean anything anymore. It is just sounds. Everything is just meaningless sounds. He’s meaningless. Not contributing anything, only taking and taking and taking everyone’s peace away like a leech. Like a blemish on an otherwise perfect family photo. 

Keith takes one of the pills in his free hand and swallows it down like he’s done a million times before. He’s okay. He’s not going to die from just one - hell he’s  _ supposed _ to be taking them twice a day even though he hasn’t for a good month now. So he pops another one in, swallows it down dry and tasteless.

He’s still fine. Has met his daily quota. But he’s feeling productive tonight, so he fills tomorrow’s quota as well. 

Soon he’s swallowing them down one after another, no room to breathe between the dry parchment pain they’re building in his throat. 

Now he’s filled three days. 

The week.

The fortnight. 

The fortnight after that, too. 

Starts to feel dizzy but he keeps working ahead. 

Nearly at three months. 

Right as he’s about to hit eight Tuesdays from now, he hears his bedroom door open. 

It doesn’t deter him, because he’s working. Just as he pops two more dry, parchment-pain pills into his mouth, Shiro enters the bathroom doorway. He’s about to say something, but it seems like he forgets when he sees Keith waiting there for him, swallowing thickly like it physically hurts him to do so. It does.

For a moment everything’s nice. Keith likes this moment, because it’s simply two brothers, locking eyes. It’s simple and nice, and Keith’s glad it’s Shiro who came into his room as opposed to...whatever her name is. 

It’s a nice moment, so Keith offers his bro a smile. It’s weak and gaunt and hauntingly genuine, but in Keith’s mind, he’s beaming like the sun itself. He loves his bro. Should tell him. One more pill first. The last one. 

The look of harrowing fear on Shiro’s face is understandably horrified. Who wouldn’t be? Watching their little brother slumped against the wall of the bathroom, smiling an awful, sickly, high smile through the foam spilling onto his bare chest. Who wouldn’t be petrified when that smile, in its unwavering terror, opens wide for another pill without breaking eye contact? Shiro can’t move. Can’t comprehend. All he can do is stand there with hot tears beginning to blur his vision when Keith gurgles out some incoherent sentiment, the smile finally fading, replaced by dulled, confused eyes. 

“Ssh...hggh,” his voice is hurt, either from physical or emotional pain, because he’s trying to tell his brother that he loves him, but Shiro’s crying…. Why is Shiro crying? He must care if he’s crying. What a relief. Somebody  _ will  _ mourn him, after all. 

“Kei…” Shiro’s voice is barely a whisper. It’s caught in his throat like how every other part of him is caught in a different paralysis. He needs to help, needs to help, fucking _ needs to help his baby brother, why won't his legs just move?! _

Keith’s vision blacks out, or, blurs out...or, rolls out? Either way, he’s dizzy. He can't feel his own limbs shaking but he can feel Shiro’s hands on him in an instant. Holding him still, hugging him? He’s not sure what’s happening, but suddenly there’s something invasive in his throat, pushing and prodding and forceful. He gags around it again and again and again and tries to listen to the urgent voice weaving in and out of the white-hot, cold blue ringing in his ears telling him - begging him to “c’mon, Keith -  _ come on  _ \-  _ please  _ \- come on, come on, throw it up -  _ please throw it up _ -” 

He does. Thinks he does, at least. Isn’t quite sure because he can’t feel anything but he hears himself vomiting and then there’s…..

…...

….

…

..blue. 

 

 

Lance was silent while he watched the clock on his wrist deplete with every pill the boy swallowed. He knew the number one rule,  _ Do  _ **_Not_ ** _ Interfere _ , it had been etched into his memory from day one. Hell, interfering is what got him the job in the first place, talk about irony. Yet, after all these years he’d managed to find a loophole. By solidifying his hand he could knock things over and make noise to draw the attention of others; which is exactly what he started doing. At first, it was a couple of small things like a book on the desk and an alarm clock on top of the dresser, but it wasn’t enough to attract anyone to the room - and time was running out fast. 

Lance looked around, growing increasingly more anxious. Empty grey walls surrounded him, with the exception of one accented red. Blue tack stains covered the paint, leaving outlines of where things used to hang. The bed sheets were blank and grey and boring. It was clear someone used to live in this room; there were coffee stains and a picture frame of a man and a woman on the desk, scrunched up paper in the garbage bin, dust marks on the bookshelves where things had once been kept. But something changed along the way. Someone stopped living. 

He sighed, sitting on the bed as he checking his watch once more, his eyes refusing to return to the scene in the bathroom. The universe had found a way to punish him, yet again.

 

_ Thud, thud, thud _

 

Rhythmic footsteps broke Lance out of his memories. When he looked up at the closed, but unlocked bedroom door, he could see the shadows interrupting the crack of light shining in from underneath it, shifting and moving. This was his moment to do something. He could hear the person, probably Shiro moving around awkwardly at the door, trying to find the right words, the right  _ way  _ to make everything better. And for a moment, Lance’s growing sense of panic was reassured. He waited for Shiro to speak, but nothing came, and the footsteps walked away with a sigh.

 

“For fuck’s…” Lance began to mutter under his breath, irritatedly - but briskly - trudging over to the door and opening it. He didn’t understand why Shiro hadn’t just walked in. Instead, he stopped in front of his own bedroom before turning back to look at Keith’s now open door with raised eyebrows. Lance checked his watch again and frowned as the timer hit five minutes. Could this idiot take any longer? Shiro walked closer to investigate before stopping, shaking his head and turning around. 

Lance groaned loudly and threw his hands up in the air, turning around. He needed to do something - quickly. So he hopped over the bed with mild haste, his arms outstretched to reach from the chair that was lazily tucked under the desk in the corner of the room. As his solid body fell on the floor he brought the wheelie chair down with him. 

 

“Keith? You okay bro?” Shiro called out from the corridor.  _ Finally!! _ Lance gave a small triumphant smile to himself as his body faded back to invisible and he moved the chair off his leg so it wasn’t awkwardly floating in the air when he walked into the room. When Keith didn’t respond, Shiro stuck his head into the room, his eyes instantly glued to the scene in the bathroom. Lance wished he’d looked away at that moment. Watching the look of unadulterated horror etch its way into Shiro’s normally calm and collect expression tugged at heartstrings Lance was sure had dissolved ages ago. 

 

‘Hurry. You can save him,’ he thought for a moment before standing up. He looked to Shiro clutching Keith’s body and silently hoped that it would be enough. That he’d managed to save someone this time. He was so sick of death. 

As he turned around to walk out of the house, he gave his hand a wave and prepared for the space-time continuum leap that would deliver him to his next job. But it didn’t appear. Without a moment’s preparation, he walked straight into a solid gold barrier that shimmered and swirled in Keith’s doorway. It had been a long time since Lance fell on his ass. Being death, he wasn’t typically clumsy, but the collision had him muttering some hybrid of English and Spanish curses to no-one in particular.  

 

“Madre de - God dammit...” he finished softly, frowning up at the door and then down at his watch. The picture of Keith was still present on the screen along with his countdown. It all looked normal, despite the fact that the numbers hadn't increased. In fact, upon closer inspection, Lance noticed the numbers that ticked rhythmically before they seemed to be slowing down. He couldn’t do anything but watch in confusion until eventually, the countdown stopped all together at 04:28. Something was wrong. Timers don’t do that, they only stop when they run out. Even coma patients had ticking clocks. Something was _ wrong. _

 

Lance turned around in a panic, his head racing with thoughts he couldn’t make sense of. Ideas and excuses flooded his brain, trying to piece together what was going on. He was completely in his own mind, thinking and  _ thinking,  _ and if he just  _ thinks _ hard enough, maybe he can figure this- 

“You’re...the guy from the cafe?” 

His eyes darted over to a solid figure who was staring at him as if he was the most interesting thing in the room. Keith’s voice was stronger and held more confusion than Lance remembered it sounding only a few hours ago. For someone who’d just thrown up an entire stomach of pills and now lay unconscious in his brother's arms on the bathroom floor, Keith looked remarkably well. 

In fact, he was glowing...or maybe that was just the faint shimmer of his soul clinging to his body when he moved. He was like a reflection in a pool of water. He was beautiful. Lance stared, unblinking, for the eternity it took him to find his voice. Frozen, like a deer in headlights, he just stood there and  _ stared  _ until the eternity caught up with him and he finally broke the silence with the most embarrassing sentence he could have possibly mustered. 

 

“What the quiznak?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two Summary:
> 
> Keith leaves the cafe after hunk and Shay impress upon him their opinions about Lance’s good looks. He recalls his day, having visited his parent's graves and returned old library books, and proceeds to take dangerous routes home (through dark alleys and jaywalking on busy streets). When Keith gets home he’s greeted by his overly nice stepmother, Lois, who is also the birth mother of his half-brother, Shiro. After refusing an invitation to join them for dinner, Keith reveals his insecurities and self-loathing; ever since his and Shiro’s father passed away, he’s been finding it harder and harder to cope with the loss. He’s become a venomous and angry person, which he doesn’t like, and has decided to take his own life. During the attempt, he overdoses, and Shiro finds him in the bathroom of his bedroom in nothing but their dad’s jacket and a pair of sweatpants. Keith blacks out and wakes up to see Lance on the floor of his bedroom flat on his ass and a confused look on his face.
> 
> Lance is sent to pass on the soul of Keith, the boy he met in the cafe. However, he is sick of death and dying and tries to interfere before Keith is gone. He causes a ruckus in Keith’s room drawing Shiro’s attention. Once Lance believes that Keith is safe he goes to leave but finds he can’t because Keith’s countdown stops at 04:28, an occurrence that is unheard of. They both look at each other in confusion before Lance blurts out “What the Quiznak?”

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my dear friend @Pretzellus for the gorgeous art for these chapters, I'm so excited to be working with them on this story. I love and cherish them 100%. I'd also like to thank my best friend @Immortalerror for being the best Beta Reader a person could ask for!


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